


Don't Forget Your Past, Don't Make Them Your Ghosts

by Pinnacle of Failure (Cromirn)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cottagecore, F/F, Gen, Konan doesn't know that 'Madara' is actually Obito, Mentions of the Sannin, Sakura's retired now and lives on a farm, Uhm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cromirn/pseuds/Pinnacle%20of%20Failure
Summary: Konan had been lost to the shinobi world ever since she'd fought the masked man, her chakra gone and a new life forged. Sakura is now a retired shinobi with high connections, and she runs a hospital somewhere just east of Konohagakure. They're not anything to each other, yet, but the earth is fertile and it's the right season to grow something new.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Konan, Haruno Sakura/Konan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Don't Forget Your Past, Don't Make Them Your Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exgorgitation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exgorgitation/gifts).



> For a discord exchange.

After the war, Sakura retires from her kunoichi title. While she is still in charge of training new nurses and doctors, it isn’t hard to convince Lady Tsunade to build a school out in the country, where lodgings, food, and other items are accessible to her new students. It acts as a sickbay for the locals too poor for proper health care, the ones willing to be a test subject to Sakura’s disciples and the ones who can’t travel far. 

She lives outside of the village, in a small homestead with cattle and geese already homed there. Five empty sections of churned land, maybe twenty by twenty feet, also exist here, the soil worn and exhausted from any natural minerals and vitamins it could possibly provide her crops. She works on socializing the animals to her, getting to know them and giving them new names, and spending the money she’d earned during the war for seeds and nutrient-rich soil to replace the stuff that came with the land. She plans on using the plots of land for any medicinal herbs that could be useful for poisons or antidotes, books on the subject already invading her bookshelves at home and at the college.

It’s all well for about five months until she meets her neighbor.

Konan of the Akatsuki. It seems that they have more in common than Sakura had initially thought.

It’s a small property, just a little cottage, with the flowerbeds already placed down to attract possible buyers and a contracted gardener to go with it. Sakura tries to keep herself hidden from the other woman most times, the view of her home on top of the small rise of the ground, of which Sakura keeps her cattle and geese, and the positioning of her own home a great advantage to spy on her neighbor.

Well, not ‘spy’ necessarily, but to keep an eye on a possible threat does fall under that definition.

Except it seems that Konan is far from a threat to Sakura. She no longer has her chakra, she doesn’t sense Sakura when she lounges with her animals, nor has she used her infamous paper techniques at all in the last two months. That, or Sakura’s finally lost it.  
Months later, when the former Akatsuki member is finally settled in, she finally begins to stray further into town. Sakura often spots her at the corner of her vision, the blue-haired woman often distracted by the wares the town offers, or bartering for an item, often for paper(which is curious, does she really have control over her abilities yet? Or has her passion for all of the uses of paper been so ingrained in her that it’s her only escape?), or casually eating at a restaurant or cafe.

She seems to become familiar with the area rather quickly, becoming friendly with the populace with ease. Sakura wonders how long it will be until she finally interacts with her neighbor, whether she should be prepared for a fight or not. Or maybe she should end the woman now, she doesn’t need even the thought of a threat so deep into her retirement.

Sakura walks into a small bakery one afternoon after a tedious day at the school, itching to bring home a nice set of muffins to enjoy a coffee with. Inside, Konan barters with the baker, in her hand paper cash and a satchel thrown over her shoulder.

“You’ve told me that these donuts had been made early in the morning, miss, would you mind if I buy it for 3.50 instead of the listed 4.30?” She says, her voice smooth and unwavering.

The baker behind the glass counter displays grimaces, “I’ll have to talk to boss about that. He doesn’t like it when we discount foods all that often, and I’d just given you a 1.60 discount last week.”

“I wasn’t around until you were closing up. I offered to buy the rest of your products near expiration, and I don’t understand how your boss will get upset when I’m still purchasing items that might never be purchased,” retorts the woman, now laying down the money on the counter, “I’ll speak to your boss the next time I see him to strike a deal. I am offering to take your expiring products for a reduced price, I see no foul play in that.”

The baker sighs, and gives her the discount while handing her the box of baked goods, “Have a nice night, miss. Ah, Sakura-san, I’m pleased to see you here. Just out of work?”

Eyeing the former Akatsuki nin, she smiles, “Yea, I’m just here to pick up my usual.”

“That’s good! Luckily we have enough for you, it’s been a fairly busy day today, you know, with exams approaching those students of yours,” he says as he organizes her the small four-container box of muffins, moving from one end of the counter to another as he obtains her goods. “I say, you go too rough on them, the stories I hear about you are wild.”

She laughs. “They’re just young. Trust me, I was like that when I taught beneath Master Tsunade.”

“Master Tsunade?” Inquires Konan, her head tilting, “The slug sannin?”

Sakura nods with a hum, giving the baker her money, taking her items underneath one arm, “She was a slave-driver worse than anyone I’ve worked with.”

“She was teammates with Jiraiya, correct?”

She raises an eyebrow, “Yes… may I ask why you ask?”

Konan looks away, her amber eyes unreadable, “He was our sensei. I just wanted to check up on his last living teammate.”

“Last living? Oh, no, Orochimaru is still alive,” Sakura comments, wondering if she should take this conversation out of the store and somewhere else. The baker makes himself busy with the dishes in the back. “He has a pretty large bounty on him in about every country. Hell, after Sasuke took over Otogakure that’s been his only goal--to take down Orochimaru.”

Konan purses her lips, clearly confused. “I have been outside of the Shinobi world for too long. I am… unfamiliar with all of this news.”

Sakura nods with her, “About that, I do have some questions for you. Security reasons, of course, considering your history. If you don’t mind, we can talk this over with coffee or tea sometime soon if you have the time.”

She sighs minutely, the action small and almost unnoticeable. “I am open anytime. My skills were too specific to hold myself a steady job.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sakura states, “I am open tomorrow morning. Eight O’clock, to be specific.”

~~~

“So, tell me,” she starts, gently placing a small teacup in front of Konan, both sat in the middle of Sakura’s living room, “What is the earliest memory you have before moving here.”

She takes the ceramic cup in her dainty hands, taking a considerate sip out of it before continuing, “I fought Uchiha Madara before things escalated. I was defeated and nearly died by his hand. I do not remember the specifics, but I woke up somewhere in the Land of Rivers, and had no control over my chakra.”

Sakura hums, pouring herself a cup of tea, “Have you retained any of your chakra enhanced abilities since then?”

“I have not. Most of my strength was honed in on my origami. I am… very poor at taijutsu, and have not looked any deeper than that,” Konan says, avoiding Sakura’s focused gaze, “I thought that it was best to forget who I was and try to blend into society.”  
“Did you intentionally choose this place for any particular advantages?”

“Few trees to obscure the sky, little ground foliage to hide potential threats,” she admits quickly, “And this is where my parents lived before we immigrated to Rain.”

“Are they alive?” Sakura asks, feeling like she already knows the answer. Ame wasn’t known for its longevity during the third war.

“No.”

“My condolences,” she says hastily, knowing that they were just words from her lips, “What are your plans for the future?”

Konan hesitates. “I just want to live a quiet life. Before it was always a threat of death, of being incapable of securing the next bijuu or completing the next goal. We weren’t allowed much time to breathe.”

“I can’t fault you for that, I’ll admit,” Sakura says, taking a sip from her tea, “it’s why I’m here. Officially I’m retired, but a true shinobi never leaves the field.”

“That sounds counterproductive,” she says, “if you can never really retire, then why do you say you are?”

“It just means that I have the ability to deny any mission requests Konoha sends me, that I will be held liable for any damages--regardless of circumstances--done to any other village in Fire or other countries,” Sakura explains as she places her cup on her table.

Konan hums in response, an acceptable answer to her. 

Sakura blinks, surprised at how fluent this conversation is, not a hint of a lie nor an inclination for keeping things hidden. This can mean many things, that Konan is truly out of the shinobi mentality, of the scape that can kill, or that she’s a very, very good liar.

She wants to be favorable. She wants to believe that Konan is honestly redeemed, that she is not a threat to her or her town or her village or her Hokage, that there will be no regret in the future due to this occupational neglect. But Sakura’s followed the steps of the requirements that’s needed in a situation like this. Sakura likes Konan, truly, she knows what it’s like to be facing the backs of the ones you’re supposed to protect, to be underestimated in every facet of the shinobi career, and she wants to believe.

This doesn’t happen often. Like, at all, in the last two decades of her life she is finally resorting to this, and she’s befuddled. There’s nothing she can read about the psychology of a person redeemed, or reports of a high class shinobi wanting to turn into a civilian, and this kind of stress makes Sakura’s brow sweat in anticipation. If she makes one wrong move, she could trigger a fifth shinobi war months after the end of the short lived fourth shinobi war.

“This concludes today's session,” she says, instead. “I will continue this in the following week. Konoha will be alerted of your presence, however I have come to the conclusion that you are not a threat in any capacity and they will know as such. You may continue living life as you had intended.”

Konan takes a long sip from her tea, closing her eyes, relieved. “Thank you, Sakura-san.”

~~~

The following days are filled with less tension than Sakura anticipated. Konan is as docile as a child, unable to sense when Sakura stalks her in her own home, unable to hide her own shock as she runs into her at the market. Konan suspects Sakura of her endeavors, and it may be true, but she doesn’t understand that this is only a test.

Konoha, or her master Tsunade, had replied faster than she’d thought they would, the curved beak of the messenger hawk nearly shattering her glass windows the night after the first sit-down, the message in a code familiar and she quickly breaks it down.

‘You have one week to show us she is not a threat. You are not Naruto, do not attempt. If proved a threat, eliminate.’

The evidence is unmeasurable. Sakura orchestrates a disaster, a couple of thug shinobi sent to terrorize the locals while she takes her students out of town for a rare case, the ruckus they cause clear as day as she looks upon the destroyed homes of a street corner. Sakura aids the town in rebuilding the home, ensuring that her image cannot be tarnished, but her guilt in how Konan is hurt is far more than any sort of bad image.

She’d helped detain the thugs, even if it was just Izumo and Kotetsu in a cheap disguise, and she’d been injured in the process. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it should be enough to prove to Tsunade that she means no ill will to this town and Konoha.

The day Sakura comes back, she helps the town. That night, she helps Konan.

The woman is as old as Kakashi, maybe a little older, and she’s spent most of those years fighting. To be left lamed in the sense that chakra is like a leg, it has done much more to leave Konan weak in the worlds eye far worse than a lost appendage can ever do.

Sakura has to tend to Konan as if she were a civilian, her chakra networks fried and shriveled, and all the more intriguing to Sakura than she’d thought possible. She tells Konan this, obviously, hoping to break the ice in the woman's home, her living room spacious with little clutter or decorative items as she kneels in front of the older woman.

“I’m not surprised,” she murmurs, “The fight with that Uchiha had left me broken in ways I never thought could be possible. I never thought it would be like this, though.”

“If it helps, there are methods to regrow the networks,” Sakura tells her as she knots the white bandages at her bicep, the stench of the salve still clinging to her fingers, “It’s something new Master Tsunade is focusing on. It’s being implemented into the classes for my students next semester, just a way to teach them the intricacies of our systems and how they work inside and around our organs, our blood.”

Konan purses her lips, shifting in her seat as Sakura stands in front of her.

“This isn’t an offer, Konan. I’m telling you to remind you that there are options.”

Sakura sighs. “In Konoha, we’re taught to love our village, to love our family, our friends, our neighbors. You’re my neighbor, Konan. Let me help you.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“I have only accepted help from three people in my life,” Konan says slowly, testing the waters with her words, “All of them are gone, now.”

“We lose people all the time, Konan,” Sakura says as she slips back down to kneel in front of her, placing her hands gently on top of her knees, “It’s something even civilians know. It’s something that’s ingrained in all of us shinobi from the first time we hold a kunai.”

Konan closes her eyes, relaxing her face. She’s like a statue, Sakura realizes, formed into the perfect beauty. It’s rare to find a S-Class nin as beautiful as Konan, the metal ball beneath her bottom lip glimmering in the candlelight, blue eyelashes stark against the pale skin of her cheeks.

“It’s futile to deny help when help is the only thing you need, Konan,” she reminds her, “I am a shinobi, but I am also a medic. Helping is my duty. I swore an oath.”

“I will… consider it. I am no longer the person I once was, there is no need for me to seek the usage of my chakra,” she says, opening her eyes to Sakura, “But thank you, Sakura-san, for this.”


End file.
